


The Amethyst Key

by chains_archivist



Category: The Key Game (Official)
Genre: Boys in Chains, F/M, Key Game, M/M, Possible mild twincest, Slaves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 23:45:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3707707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Kitsunehi </p><p>Summary: Trinity and Tristan Asheton are a set of close twins, raised in a very wealthy family. Trinity owns a Key named Hyacinthe, who has been worried about his childhood friend Nikita, who desperately needs a master. Trinity decides she knows just the right Owner...and sends her brother a most unusual gift.<br/>Warnings: Both Hetrosexual and Homosexual parings. Very small possiblility of mild twincest in later parts. Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Main Characters

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).

**The Main Characters:**  
  
Name: Nikita Hair: silver (waist length/feathers braided into front)

Eyes: dark blue

Height: 5'6"

Weight: 135

Skin Tone: deep bronze

Other: very feminine features. Wears black or dark blue silk harem pants, bells around the ankles. Always bare-chested and foot; wears a collar around his neck that also has bells on it. Nipples and ears are pierced. Speaking voice is very soft; almost tenor in nature, but singing voice is a baritone. He is a dancer and loves music. He plays the harp exceptionally well and does also sing. Sullen much of the time when he doesn't have a Master to please. He is terrified of being alone and will accept anything from his Master whatsoever, but he loves being touched and held. He becomes somewhat petulant and utterly withdrawn when he knows that his Master is displeased with him and will do anything, including totally humiliating himself to regain his Master's approval.

 

* * *

  
  
Name: Hyacinthe

 

Hair: dyed blue-violet (slightly longer than shoulder-length)

Eyes: dark brown

Height: 5'7"

Weight: 140

Skin Tone: fair

Other: feminine in the features. Wears a dark green short chitin (falls just above the knee). He has pierced ears (one on each side and a cuff on the right) and a tattoo of a sun on his left cheek and one of a one of ivy spiraling around the right ankle. He is the perfect masochist and loves playing games. He is somewhat disobedient, but once he finds a master/mistress that he likes, he becomes quickly attached and allows anything his dominant partner demands. However, he is very picky and rarely likes any of them at all. He has a great love of art and paints when he is alone and sings wonderfully (tenor). Much of his own art is dark, mostly inspired by old folk tales, poems and songs.

 

* * *

  
  
Name: Trinity Asheton

 

Hair: black

Eyes: green Height: 5'6"

Weight: 130

Skin Tone: Fair

Other: Child of a wealthy family, Trinity is one of two children. She is a very sweet-natured woman for the most part, but she does have a very sadistic streak in her personality, particularly when dealing with a willing sexual partner. She is Hyacinthe's Mistress and cares about him very much and particularly enjoys his games. She can be very restless and loves adventure to cure her of that part of herself. She also is very close to her twin brother, Tristan.

 

* * *

  
  
Name: Tristan Asheton

 

Hair: black

Eyes: green

Height: 5'10"

Weight: 170

Skin Tone: Fair

Other: Twin brother to Trinity Asheton, Tristan is much like his sister in the respect that he is very good-natured. However, he lacks his twin's mean streak. He can be forceful when the situation calls for him to do so, but he would much prefer to work things out diplomatically. However, Tristan is one to get bored easily and is prone to fits of depression. Unlike Trinity, who does something about her restlessness, he prefers to sit and stew over a situation, locking himself off from other people and brooding. He loves his sister very much, and there is nothing he wouldn't do for her.

 


	2. Prologue: Nature of the Beast

"What is the name?" The voice was cool, just a notch above cold. Hyacinthe knew that he had pushed the issue until his Mistress wanted to know everything about Nikita. He was currently strapped down over a small gymnastics horse, his legs tied spread eagle at the ankles, wrists fastened to those bindings, the back of his body bared to the wrath of her whip. Or, in his opinion, the mercy of her whip.   
  
"Nikita, Mistress." He closed his eyes, waiting for the sting.   
  
Crack!   
  
"Very good, little love," Trinity purred. "And you think he's grown too lonely, as of late?"   
  
"Yes, Mistress," Hyacinthe replied. "He needs someone; I'm afraid for him."   
  
Crack! Crack!   
  
"Two for caring for someone else's happiness," Trinity explained, running the doubled-over leather up the inside of his thighs, tapping at the tender skin there. "And you think I might know someone that would appreciate and love him, as I do you?"   
  
"I was hoping." His voice trembled slightly in anticipation, praying he'd said the right thing. If his answer displeased her, he would stay there, in agony, his bound sex painfully waiting to be released, the whipping over for the night. She was a beautifully cruel mistress to him and he loved and revered her for it. She liked his games and played them, most of the time delighting in his pleas for more.   
  
"Mm. Maybe I do," she said slowly, a note of thoughtfulness to her voice. Bringing the doubled-over whip down hard on his ass, she smiled when he whimpered, trying to gain some sort of friction to ease the throbbing need condensed between his legs. "If I did, how would you think it would do your little friend any good?"   
  
"He would be happy, Mistress," Hyacinthe pleaded. "Please, MistressÖhe's locked himself up in his chambers; he's heartbroken." Her response to his request made him moan in appreciation. He felt the tips of her fingers, slick with lube probing into his opening. Shortly afterward, the plug was inserted, pressing nicely against his prostate, but not enough to send him over the edge.   
  
"What would you say if I told you I think I have just the person?" Trinity asked, biting down on one inviting pale globe that was clenched in anticipation of both the plug and her teeth.   
  
"I would say that I love you, but you already know that," he whispered, trying not to thrust his ass in the air, waiting for the sharp nip of her teeth. "So, I'll say anything you want me toÖanything you want, Mistress."   
  
"You're such a good boy, Hyacinthe," murmured, reaching between his legs, absently stroking her fingertips across his cock. "Such a very good boyÖ" With a flick of her fingertip, she turned the plug onto vibrate, leaning down to kiss his cockhead, which had swelled to a deep purple.   
  
"MistressÖ" he cried softly, trying to keep his hips from rocking. "Oh GodÖ"   
  
"Here, Baby," she purred, licking along the bottom of his shaft. "Let me make it up to you."   
  
Hot wetness combined with throbbing pressure finally drove him over the edge. His scream echoed through the high-ceiling room, his body thrashing, muscles clenching in pleasure. Nothing existed except the release and the low hum from Trinity's throat, making the explosion all the more intense.   
  
Several aftershocks later, the plug was removed, as well as the bindings and the harness. Cool hands covered in soothing oil massaged away the stinging that marked his back and buttocks. Kisses punctuated his bare shoulders and flushed cheeks, then his ears and closed eyes. "I do love you, you know," he whispered sleepily.   
  
"I know, Love," Trinity murmured, gently placing a lingering kiss on his lips as she lead him to the bed and curled up beside him. "I you, too."


	3. Part One: A Most Unusual Gift

"A gift from Trin?" Tristan Asheton eyed the parcel set in front of him warily. Although he loved his twin, he was always on his guard whenever she felt the need to send him "presents". Granted, he certainly hadn't minded the jade and ivory-handled riding quirt; however, he felt the packing material of flavored condoms had been a bit much. This particular package was about a hand-width's breadth, and just longer than his hand length-wise. It was silver, tied with a deep purple ribbon and much heavier than it looked.   
  
Carefully opening the new prize, Tristan was confused at the contents of the metal box. On a lining of cream-colored velvet lay a single, large silver key with several amethyst gemstones set into the handle. There was also a slip of parchment, evidently meant as a message to him. Carefully unfolding it, he read the note.   
  
Mr. Asheton: Please accept this gift on behalf of your sister. The Amethyst Key is yours to do with as you will. We request that you pack yourself enough clothing for an extended stay at The Palace, where your Key will be awaiting your arrival. At ten o'clock tomorrow morning, a car will arrive to take you to a private plane, which will then transport you to The Palace for your vacation. Be sure to remember the Amethyst Key and keep it on your person at all times for verification.  
  
"Okay, now what the hell is she doing?" he asked, re-reading the note. "What's this Palace place?" Sighing, he realized that this is one time when Trinity's "gift" would raise more questions than answers until he arrived at his destination. With a wry smile and a feeling of slight foreboding, he set out to pack his luggage for a two-week stay.  
  
"Mr. Asheton, I'm pleased to see that you made it," the receptionist greeted with a warm smile. "I trust your transportation was satisfactory?"   
  
"Very," Tristan replied cordially. The limousine had brought him to the airfield, where a private jet was waiting to fly him to the Palace. The flight had been relaxing, to say the least. Every need or want was provided to him, the attendant was kind, albeit mysterious.   
  
"Wonderful," she purred. "Please follow them and they'll show you your room. The Amethyst Key, correct?" Nodding her head, she pointed out a pair of rather androgynous-looking individuals, clothed in loose white tunics and pants.   
  
"Right," he affirmed, nodding slowly as he looked to his guides. They couldn't have been very old, but they had an eerie timelessness about them, particularly in their twin stares. "Uh, my luggageÖ"   
  
"That will be taken care of, as well," the woman told him as another individual appeared out of nowhere, dressed in the same style as the two standing before him. The new arrival picked up Tristan's luggage and waited silently for the cue to follow them to the room. "If you need anything, dial 0-3-9 on your phone in the room. And enjoy your stay, Mr. Asheton."   
  
"UhÖsure, thanks," he replied warily, following the servants down the hall. Trin, I love you, but what the hell have you gotten me into?   
  
"This is your room, Sir," one of the guides said, stopping before a large iron door with a keyhole that Tristan suspected must be for the key he held in his hands. "The Amethyst Key is for you to do as you will. If there are any complaints about your slave, please let us know. Enjoy your stay."   
  
"My what? Hey, wait a second, where are you going?" Tristan cried turning to watch the pair walk away down the hall without another word. He turned to the man carrying his luggage and knew immediately that he would get no response from him. "Well, I guess there's one thing left to do and find out what my loving sister got me into." Holding up the key, he slid it into the keyhole and heard the soft click of the lock. Pushing carefully, the door swung open and the sound of a harp spilled out.   
  
Stepping into the room on vibrantly colored rugs, Tristan took in the surroundings of the room. On one wall, there was a large and well-maintained bookcase. Most of the light in the room was supplied with ornate oil lamps, although there were a few chandeliers above on the high gilded ceilings. The walls were a deep gray marble, streaks of white and pale gray threaded through it. The bed was a large oak four-poster with deep purple curtains and sheer burgundy linings. There were several pillows and the bedspread was a myriad of subtle dark burgundy, purple and gray.   
  
But the next thing Tristan noticed about the suite was the beautiful music and a lilting baritone voice singing along.

 

  
"Bold Arder went forth one summer morning  
To view the merry green wood;   
For to hunt for the deer that run here and there   
And there he espied Robin Hood.   
Aye, and there he espied Robin Hood."  
  
  
Walking toward the sound of the voice, he completely forgot the man who had carried his luggage, enraptured by the music and had to know where it was coming from. At the back of the room, there was a comfortable-looking couch. It was facing a small upraised stage, carefully lit with soft lights and in the center sat a harp. At the harp, there was a beautiful creature in deep blue silk harem pants with long, silver waist-length hair and deeply tanned skin. It was this bewitching creature who was singing the song and playing the instrument. His eyes were closed, and he sang as though there were no one in the room but himself.   
  
"What a fellow art thou? quoth bold Robin Hood,   
And what is thy business here?   
For now, to be brief, thou dost look like a thief   
And I come for to steal the king's deer.   
Aye, come for to steal the king's deer.  
  
"No, I am the keeper of this parish   
The king hath a-put me in trust;   
And therefore I pray thee to get on thy way   
Or else to upstand thee I must.   
Aye, Or else to upstand thee I must."  
  
Still entranced, Tristan silently moved forward and sat down, watching the young man intently, noticing small details, such as the several rings lining his earlobes, the feathers braided into the front of his hair, the slender fingers on graceful hands. Bells on his ankles and collar jingled softly on the boy's lithe body as he played, almost as if her were a part of the music itself. It was very possibly the most beautiful sight he had ever seen in his life.   
  
"'Tis thou must have more partakers in store   
Before thou upstand me in deed,   
For I have a staff, he is made of ground gaffe   
And I warrant he'll do my deed.   
Aye, and I warrant he'll do my deed.  
  
"And I have another, quoth bold Robin Hood,   
He's made of an oaken tree,   
He's eight foot and a half and would knock down a calf   
And why shouldn't a' knock down thee?   
Aye, and why shouldn't a' knock down thee?"  
  
Tristan didn't even notice when servants on silent feet entered the room and set down food and a decanter of wine next to the couch. There was too much to the singer to possibly tear his eyes away from. He unconsciously leaned forward, listening in anticipation to the story being sung, amazed by the annunciation and projection in the room, since he had not paid enough attention to notice the full impact of the acoustics.   
  
"Let us measure our staves, says bold Robin Hood   
Before we begin and away,   
If by half a foot mine should be longer than thine   
Then that should be counted foul play.   
Aye, and that should be counted foul play.  
  
"Then at it they went, for bang, for bang,   
The space of two hours or more.   
Every blow they swung makes the grove to ring   
And they play their game so sure.   
Aye, and they play their game so sure.  
  
"Then bold Robin Hood drew forth bugle horn,   
And he blew it both loud and shrill,   
And direct thereupon he espied Little John   
Come running a-down the hill.   
Aye, come running a-down the hill.  
  
"O what is the matter? then said Little John   
You are not doing well, he said.   
O, says bold Robin Hood, here's a tanner so good   
And I warrant he's tanned my hide.   
Aye, and I warrant he's tanned my hide.  
  
"If he's such a tanner, then says Little John,   
A tanner that tans so true,   
We'll make-a no doubt but we'll have a fresh bout   
And I warrant he'll tan my hide too.   
Aye, and I warrant he'll tan my hide too.  
  
"That thing shall not be, says Bold Robin Hood,   
For he is a hero so bold,   
For he has best play'd, he is master of his trade   
And by no man shall he be controll'd.   
Aye, and by no man shall he be controll'd."  
  
  
Tristan couldn't help himself and immediately began clapping for the musician in earnest. It was rare that he had the chance to hear such fine music. The young man's eyes flew open in shock and stared at Tristan with eyes so dark blue, they seemed unreal, lined in black, long feathery lashes blinking down onto slightly reddened cheeks. His teeth bit down lightly on painted blood red lips before his head bowed forward and he removed himself from his perch.   
  
With the grace of a cat, the young man made his way before the couch on bare feet, the bells jingling once again with his movements. Stopping before Tristan, he knelt down, his head bowed. "M-Master, I'm terribly sorry," the whispery voice apologized. "I had heard no word of your arrival. I am deeply sorry for my disobedience and failure to greet you as I should haveÖshall I get you a whip, or would you like to browse the punishment implements yourself?"  
  
"Punishment?" Tristan asked in disbelief. "Why would I punish you? This was a beautiful greeting to arrive to. Why are you so upset? It's alright."   
  
The slave's head slowly raised, deep blue eyes wide with amazement. One braid swept past his painted lips as they parted ever so slightly. "Master? Are you certain?" he whispered, evidently in shock.   
  
Tristan smiled in return, hoping to calm the young man. "Positive. Now, why don't you tell me who you are and what you do here?"   
  
Curling his legs beneath him, the silver-haired man looked up at the dark-haired one on the couch. "My name is Nikita, Master and I am your slave, to do with as you wish." Crawling forward a little, he rested his head on the couch, gazing up at his master lovingly. "Anything you want, Master. Anything at all."   
  
Tristan's eyes grew wide at the intonation in Nikita's voice. "You don't mean youÖuhÖI meanÖ" he stammered. True, Nikita was beautiful and he'd had a tumble or two between the sheets with a few men, but none of them had ever been so lovely. And this one looked so positively innocent, he couldn't bear to think of doing anything to him.   
  
Nikita smiled with an impish look on his face. "Why, of course, Master," he replied. "I'm your slave, to do with as you wish. I certainly have no objections, either. You're very kind and rather handsome, really." Nikita let his eyes wander over his Master with a great deal of satisfaction. He was very attractive and seemed to be a gentle person; the sort of Master that he'd been hoping and wishing for. He carefully scooted a bit closer, refusing to be so assuming as to climb up on the couch next to the older man, but aching to touch him, nonetheless.   
  
"UmÖthank you," Tristan choked out. "You're veryÖbeautiful. And please, just call me Tristan, alright? It certainly wouldn't be fair of me to call you by your name, if you won't call me by mine." Nikita had moved a little closer to him and reached out to wrap one shapely arm about his lower leg, resting his head on Tristan's knee.   
  
Nikita blushed again. "Very well, Tristan, if you wish for me to call you that," he agreed. "Would you like anything to eat? Are you thirsty? The others brought you some things, but if you don't like it, I can have them bring you something else." He wanted very much to please this Master; he wanted to keep him. Tristan seemed so perfect, he hoped that he could make Tristan happy, so he wouldn't leave him all alone in the palace.   
  
"IÖwell, I guess I am a little hungry," he said thoughtfully. Before he could move, Nikita was on his feet and bringing him a plate of food. "What are you doing, Nikita?" he questioned when the slave propped himself up on all fours and somehow managed to place the plate on his back and stayed there.   
  
"Well, you'll need a table to eat off of, Tristan," Nikita replied happily. Then, he glanced up at the dark haired man and smiled provocatively at him. "See anything you like?"   
  
"You really don't have to do this," Tristan offered, picking the crockery off the slim back.   
  
"Oh, but I want to," Nikita insisted. "Please, let me do something for you; anything. Please, Tristan, just let me make you happy." His eyes turned to a pleading look. They started to well up with desperate tears, but he turned away before Tristan could actually see him cry. He hadn't meant to act like such an infant, but he loathed the thought of being rejected by such a wonderful Master. His head bowed down and he tried to keep his composure. It certainly wouldn't do to make Tristan dislike him and ask for someone else.   
  
Tristan realized that Nikita's shoulders had started to shake slightly. He suddenly felt rather bad for the slave, since he was only trying to do his job. But he couldn't imagine using such a beautiful creature as Nikita for furniture or a whipping boyÖor even just sex, for that matter. Setting the plate on the couch, he slid to the floor behind the silver-haired boy and reached out a hand. Placing it on Nikita's shoulder, he felt his slave stiffen in shock.   
  
"NikitaÖI'm sorry," Tristan murmured, trying to soothe him by running his fingertips down the other's back. He watched in fascination as Nikita's entire body seemed to jump and respond to his simple touch. The dark, smooth skin felt like silk under his fingertips and he marveled at the shift of muscle as he arched under his Master's touch.   
  
"Oh, MasterÖTristanÖ" Nikita pleaded, turning around, curling himself up in his Master's lap. He nearly burst into tears when he felt Tristan's arms close around him, stroking his hair and the heat of gentle breath on his forehead. "Please let me make you happy. I want you to be pleased with meÖ"   
  
"Nikita, I am pleased with you," Tristan assured him, pulling the smaller body closer. "I just can't use you like that. You aren't furniture, you aren't something I can just take my temper out on, do you understand that? You're a human being; a beautiful, fragile human being." He couldn't stop himself from bestowing a gentle kiss on the boy's forehead, then rested his own on the top of Nikita's head.   
  
"But, I'm a slave," Nikita protested. "That's what I'm doing here. Didn't you understand that when you bought me, the key?"   
  
"Actually, I didn't know anything about this," Tristan confessed. "The key was a gift, from my sister. I had no idea what this place was or that I'd be getting a slave."   
  
"ButÖthen why did you come here?" the slave asked. "If you didn't knowÖ"   
  
"I foolishly trusted my sister," Tristan replied with a soft chuckle. "But then again, I've always trusted Trin."  
  
"What's she like?" Nikita questioned, snuggling closer. He heard a faint rumble, which he assumed was Tristan's stomach. "You should eat something, you know."   
  
"What about you?" Tristan asked, picking at the plate as Nikita slid off his lap and onto the carpet beside him. "Aren't you hungry?"   
  
"No, you need to eat first." Nikita shook his head and looked down at the carpet.   
  
"I can't very well eat by myself," Tristan said seriously. "Get yourself a plate and come sit with me, then I'll tell you about Trinity, okay?"   
  
Nikita looked warily at the food. "Well, I really don't know if I could eat any of it," he admitted. "It looks rather strangeÖ"   
  
"You've never had stuffed mushrooms before?" Tristan asked. Nikita shook his head shyly, blushing. He'd never had a Master that had eaten anything strange, like Tristan did. "What about jumbalia?"   
  
"Jumba what?" Nikita asked.   
  
Tristan almost burst out laughing at the look of utter confusion on Nikita's face. "It's Cajun food," he explained. "Here, I've got an idea, okay? Stay right here." He stood up and walked over to the lay out of food at the table and piled a few other things on the plate, picking up various fruit and whatnot. He had to smile when he realized Trinity must have left the instructions for what to bring him, since everything he particularly liked was there. He also poured a few glasses of wine, placed it all on a large tray and instructed for Nikita to close his eyes.   
  
Nikita obediently shut his eyes and waited patiently for Tristan's return. He smiled a little when he heard his Master speak to him again. "This is a game Trin and I used to play when we were younger," he heard Tristan explain. "By the way, Trinity is my twin sister. AnywayÖhere, open your mouth, would you? Keep your eyes closed, though." He opened his mouth slightly and was slightly taken back when he felt something being placed on his tongue. It was sort of bitter, but had a nice flavor and texture. He'd almost forgotten to chew when he realized that Tristan had placed it in his mouth.   
  
"Hm," he said slowly, swallowing the food. "What was that?"   
  
"Did you like it?" Tristan asked, the smile evident in his tone.   
  
"Yes, I think so," Nikita replied. "I've never tasted anything like that before."   
  
"It's called Star fruit," Tristan explained. "I tend to like it on occasion. Here's the next sample; tell me what you think, okay?" Nikita nodded obediently and opened his mouth once again. This was much different from the fruit. It was firm and somewhat filling in texture and the taste was almost smoky. There was a distinct cheese flavor and garlic, along with something else he couldn't quite place. It was sort of thick, so he had to swallow a few times before he spoke.   
  
"That was very odd," he murmured, pondering the aftertaste. "Kind ofÖheavy."   
  
"Here, have a drink of this," Tristan advised, bringing a glass of wine to the slave's lips. "Those were stuffed mushrooms, by the way. The cheese kind of sticks, doesn't it?"   
  
"A little," Nikita admitted, taking a drink of the wine. "What's this, then?"   
  
"Reisling," Tristan told him, smiling at the contemplative look on the other's face.   
  
"It's sort of dry," he finally said. "But good. Especially with the mushroom aftertaste."   
  
"You have excellent taste," Tristan remarked with a grin, taking a sip of wine. "I happen to enjoy the flavor myself." He laughed a bit when Nikita's eyes opened and looked at him in wonder.   
  
"Really?" he asked shyly.   
  
"Really."   
  
"May I?" Nikita asked after a long silence, indicating the plate.   
  
"Certainly," Tristan complied. He watched as Nikita studied the plate for a moment, then picked up one of the mushrooms and held it out to him. Closing his eyes, he opened his mouth and allowed Nikita to feed him the mushroom, playfully closing his lips on the boy's fingers for a moment, sucking lightly. He heard the small gasp from his slave and tried not to smile as he chewed the vegetable and swallowed. He slowly opened his eyes and looked directly at Nikita. "How about this?" he asked, picking up a piece of shrimp and placing it in his mouth.   
  
"Hot!" Nikita yelped, chewing and swallowing as fast as he could. He choked a little on the spice burning at the back of his throat.   
  
"Here, eat this," the older man instructed, breaking off a chunk of a roll and feeding it to him. "It'll take the sting off. Water only makes it worse."   
  
"What was that?" Nikita asked, his eyes wide open, his lips parted to breathe in air.   
  
"That was jumbalia," Tristan explained. "Cajun food is pretty spicy. Sorry about that."   
  
"It's okay," Nikita assured him. "I just wasn't expecting that."   
  
"Well, I'll know to make sure to watch the Cajun stuff with you, then," Tristan told him. "How about this, let's just eat and talk for a while, and you can tell me what's expected around here, okay?"   
  
Nikita smiled a little. "Yes, Tristan, I think I would enjoy that very much." 


	4. Part One B: Night Moves

An hour and a half later, they were still sitting on the floor, Tristan's back against the couch, Nikita settled snugly between his legs, resting against his Master's chest. Tristan was still playfully feeding the slave different things, and allowing himself to be fed as well, as they talked. So far, Trinity and activities around the Palace were discussed, but there was still one question Tristan had been dying to ask.   
  
"So, what do you do around here for fun, then?" he asked, taking a long swallow of wine. He'd already had two glasses, as had Nikita. "Do you go play with the others often?"   
  
"Oh, no," Nikita told him, shaking his head, his eyes half-closed from the effects of the wine. "We never leave our rooms without Masters. And when we do, we have to be on a leash. We're slaves; we're obedient."  
  
"So you never leave here?" Tristan questioned. "You've never been outside the walls of the palace?"   
  
"No. But that's okay," Nikita assured him. "I'm fed, clothed, housed and indulged while I'm here. I have my books and my harp and my musicÖdancingÖit's not so bad, really. Maybe someday I'll leave here. I just hope that if you decide you don't want me anymore, I get a Master that's at least half as wonderful as you've been to me." He leaned back further, snuggling against Tristan, enjoying the feel of a strong arm snake around his waist and hold him close.   
  
"ButÖdon't you ever want something more?" Tristan asked him. "To be able to go outside any time you want to; do what you fell like doing, love whom and how you please?"   
  
"I used to," Nikita admitted, his face tilting up toward the ceiling. "But I've only had a few really mean Masters, not like some of the others; so I'm lucky. And Hyacinthe says it's because I'm beautiful and Masters wouldn't like me as much if I were scarred."   
  
"Who's Hyacinthe?" he quieried, absentmindedly running his fingers through the long silver strands. "Is he another slave?"   
  
"Mm," Nikita purred, melting against Tristan. "We pretty much grew up togetherÖhe's probably the closest thing to family I have. Kind of like a brother. He knows about cruel mastersÖmore than I've experienced, anyway."   
  
"How many have you had?" He couldn't help but feel slightly angry at the thought of anyone wanting to hurt Nikita. "Did they hit you?"   
  
"Only a few, really," Nikita replied. "There was some hitting, but not too much, I guess. There were other things that were worse, but not like Hyacinthe. He's been hurt a lotÖI don't know why, though. He's beautiful, too."   
  
"What about now?"   
  
"Hyacinthe? Oh, he has a Mistress, now, from what I've heard," Nikita murmured, drinking slowly. "He seems to like her, too. That doesn't happen very often, though. I've heard other Masters talk and say that he's a terror and impossible to deal with. Maybe that's why they hurt him so much." He shrugged and snuggled deeper into his Master's embrace.   
  
"So, you sit and read all day, then? Doesn't that get a bitÖboring, though?" Tristan asked slowly.  
  
"NoÖI dance and sing and play my harp, too," Nikita reminded him gently. "I love to dance, in fact."   
  
Leaning down, Tristan whispered into his slave's ear, "Would you dance for me? Right now? If I asked you to?"   
  
"Nothing would make me happier," Nikita vowed, tiliting his head back, trying to bring Tristan's lips closer. "I would do anything for you, Tristan. Anything at all." Without so much as another prompt, he drew himself up to his feet and tried to scamper over to where the stereo was kept in a cabinet built into the wall. However, being more than slightly tipsy, he stumbled just a little on his way.   
  
After a few moments of digging through the collection of music, he finally decided on what he wanted and set it to play, taking his place in a large, clear area of the floor. His eyes closed and as soon as the haunting gypsy music began, he felt his body being taken over by the bittersweet melody and he began to move. First, it was just a light sway of the hips and arms, then he felt himself begin to turn slowly, in small circles. He was so wrapped up in the music, he didn't even hear the bells that surrounded his ankles and neck.   
  
Tristan reclined comfortably against the couch, waiting patiently. As soon as the music began, he took another drink and watched carefully. He was amazed that Nikita still had the moves of a cat, his body moving so fluidly he was once again trapped by the sight. The dark blue eyes were closed, the red lips parted, his sways and circles becoming a slow, erotic dance, his head leaned back, the dim lighting of the room glowing off his dusky skin and silver hair. The movements became longer, more drawn out and sensuous as the sad notes of the violins straining through the air.   
  
Feathers and silver strands melted in and out of the wavering light, shadows following and leaping in time with their owner across the floor on the carpets. Mandolins and tambourines melded with a perfectly harmonized pair of voices, keening into the dark. Bronze skin began to shine with a fine coating of sweat as the warm air grew heavy with the scent of musk and wood.   
  
When the music picked up, the ballet became faster, more intense. Nikita's arms began to flow faster as his body bent and shifted, moving with frantic grace. Feet began to skim over the floor, tripping along those same shadows as they flitted away from him. Then, Nikita's own voice began to wail along with the music as he spun, faster and faster, long lean legs flexing and shifting under the dark blue silk that covered so much, but hugged and clung to his flesh in places as he moved.   
  
Before Tristan could think about what he was doing, he found himself slowly crawling across the floor on his hands and knees, until he was close enough to touch Nikita. Then, he straightened, standing on his knees and caught the dancer as he spun, pulling him close and burrying his face into the tight muscles of the dark-skinned boy's stomach, nuzzling and planting gentle kisses around his belly button. He felt Nikita's body start to shake slightly and stood, catching him before the slave's legs gave out beneath him.   
  
Strong arms holding him about the waist, Nikita let his upper body fall back, his hair pooling on the floor at his heels as his hips pressed against Tristan's. He let his body sway with the music again, loving the feeling of being crushed against the rougher fabric of his master's jeans, a hot throbbing presence growing against his own confined sex. He moaned softly as Tristan's hands moved up his back, pulling him upright and closer. His head remained thrown back, baring his neck, his breathing coming out in short gasps as he tried to press himself against Tristan's leg, whimpering when he couldn't.   
  
He cried out as soon as he felt hot lips press against his exposed skin, one gentle hand tangling into his masses of hair as the other slid down to cup his bottom, kneading the firm flesh slowly. He clung helplessly to Tristan's shirt, gathering the soft gray cotton in his grasp, shamelessly thrusting his hips forward, his body flushing with desire and wanton need. "PleaseÖ" he gasped softly. "Love me, TristanÖmake me yours and stay with me. Do with me as you like; anything."   
  
"Nikita," Tristan whispered against the boy's throat. "I can't just take youÖI couldn't. You aren't a sex toy, don't you see that?" He placed several small, hot kisses up Nikita's throat above the slim silk and belled collar, jawline and to his pouting lips. Claiming that mouth was like paradise as he delved into that warm sweetness with his tongue. He could feel the smaller boy moan into his mouth and gently pull his hand out of his hair and to his chest, placing his fingers on one of the silver rings that pierced his nipples.   
  
"Then make love to me," Nikita breathed as their lips parted. "Be gentle and kind, if you like. I just want you to love me and be happy with me."   
  
"I am happy with you," Tristan promised. "I haven't been so relaxed in a long time. And I do want you, but I won't use you. Do you understand that if we do this, it will mean more than sex?"   
  
"Yes," Nikita replied, throwing his arms around his Master's neck. "I want that more than anything, and it scares me, but I know you won't hurt me. You could never hurt me; I know that. You're a good person and you're handsome and strong and wonderfulÖ"   
  
"NikitaÖ"   
  
"I'm not just saying that, either," the silver-haired boy added, nuzzling into Tristan's neck. "You are wonderful and all of that. I want you to make me feel and want thingsÖI want to fall asleep with you and wake up beside you."   
  
"And what if I said no?" Tristan asked seriously. He felt his heart crack as he saw the look of utter helplessness and despair in the dark blue gaze that had been fixed on his own. "I'm not saying it, but what if I had?"   
  
"Then I wouldn't do anything at all," Nikita protested sullenly. "Nothing at all. I wouldn't listen to you, I wouldn't sing or dance or play for youÖI would stay in a corner and that's all. Can't you see that I love you so much, already? You're kind to me and don't hurt meÖdon't hit me, don't whip me or bite me too hard or put things in me that are too big to feel good at allÖand I know you never would."   
  
"How do you know?" Tristan whispered intensely, picking up the slight body and carrying him to the bed, setting Nikita down on the comforter on his back. "How do you know that I won't hurt you? That I won't make you cry or screamÖ" He bent down to take one of the rings in his teeth and tugged. It wasn't a hard pull at all, but enough to catch Nikita's attention.   
  
Nikita cried out and arched his body under Tristan's. The pain normally bothered him, but this wasn't hard enough to really hurt him and it felt so good, he couldn't stop himself from pulling at his Master's shirt, wanting it off so badly he could have screamed. "YesÖ" he moaned when Tristan's attention turned to the other nipple. He felt Tristan raise up and take the shirt off, then settle back down to attack the hard little nubs of burning need, pressing a hard, flat stomach against Nikita's bulging erection. "MmnghÖTristan, pleaseÖ" he pleaded softly, running his fingers through the jaw-length black hair, trying to wrap his legs around Tritan's waist and pull him closer. The silk caught on the seams of the faded jeans, making his efforts more difficult.   
  
"Put your hands up above your head and close your eyes," Tristan ordered, nipping at the left ring once more before he stood. He was surprised with Nikita's immediate compliance to his wishes. It felt strange, but somehow empowering to see the lithe body stretched across the mix of burgundy, purple and gray, strong arms poised above a gentle, beautiful face, deep blue eyes closed, feathery lashes resting against flushed cheeks, pouting lips parted just enough to let in the gasps of anticipation.   
  
He walked over to the cabinets of instruments, browsing through the several sets of cuffs, blind folds, and other miscellaneous toys. Picking a particularly soft-looking pair of wrist and ankle cuffs, lined in fur and a few other random objects, then returned to the bed. Shifting Nikita to the desired position, he gently closed the cuffs around Nikita's wrists. "Keep those eyes closed until I tell you to open them," he murmured in one heavilly pierced ear, tugging softly on a random silver hoop with his teeth.   
  
"Anything you want, Tristan," Nikita breathed. "I promise."   
  
"Very good, Nikita," he purred, kissing the now un-painted lips and crawling down to sit beside his little prize. HmmÖnow, I wonder, what would you do, if I did this?" Carefully, he ran one single stiff feather down Nikita's chest and stomach, making the younger man squirm and gasp in shock, but not once did the slave open his eyes.   
  
"Or this?" Tracing the tip of the feather back up Nikita's body, he tickled at the erect nipples, flitting around the rings, tracing slow circles around the tensing muscle. As Nikita struggled desperately to keep his composure, he traced his fingers along the waistband of midnight blue silk. Nikita's hips jerked upward, trying to make Tristan apply more pressure to the sensitive area below his stomach. "Now, now, be good, 'Kita," he chided playfully, leaning forward to allow his breath to play across the area of skin his fingers had been previously.   
  
"I'm sorry, Tristan," Nikita whimpered. "I'll be good."   
  
"Will you?" he teased, raising an eyebrow, kissing the hot skin as his hand journeyed downward, cupping the hot bulge under his palm. "I wonder if you can." He started rubbing softly, tugging at the drawstrings with his mouth.   
  
"I'll be goodÖI'll be goodÖ" Nikita chanted desperately. "Anything you wantÖI'll be goodÖ" Tears formed at the back of his eyes as he fought to keep control of himself. It had been far too long since someone, anyone had touched him at all, and even longer since the touch had been so achingly sweet and soft. The kisses, the feeding one another, the wine, the dancing and the way Tristan had picked him up and carried him over to the bedÖit was almost too much for him to handle.   
  
"Shh," Tristan soothed, moving up to kiss Nikita again on the lips. "Just relax and I'll be right back."   
  
Nikita nodded, tears spilling out the corners of his eyes. He felt Tristan's weight leave the bed and almost sobbed with frustration. He wanted to be touched again so badly it hurt everywhere, but especially in that throbbing ache between his legs. He wanted to get some sort of pressure, but it was impossible with the way he was bound. Soon enough, though, he felt Tristan return and kneel on the bed next to him. Then he felt those soft lips on his own again and opened his mouth in time to catch the slow trickle of wine being transferred across his tongue. He began sucking gently at first, then harder, sucking the warm white sting into his mouth, swallowing and continuing to kiss Tristan feverntly.   
  
"Enough of that," he whispered, breaking the kiss reluctantly. "I still have a few things to do. Be good and I promise you, I'll stay for as long as you like."   
  
Nikita nodded and waited, not daring to open his eyes or even speak. He wanted to be good so that he could keep Tristan forever. The roaming touches and kisses started again and he moaned out loud, writhing in an exquisite mixture of ecstacy and agony. He felt the bottoms of his pants being pulled out of the belled ankle bracelets and untied. Each foot was kissed softly on the bottom and it tickled, especially when Tristan raked his teeth across the skin.   
  
Trying to keep himself from throwing his carefully planned seduction out the window, Tristan tugged at the low waistband of the silk pants. Nikita raised his hips slightly and he pulled the garment down and off the prone body below him. Breathing in, he drank in the sight of Nikita's naked form, his sex standing hard and dark in the faint light. He licked his lips in anticipation and tore his gaze away long enough to secure the ankle cuffs to Nikita and the bedposts. Now securely bound, Tristan leaned back to thoroughly enjoy the sight before moving on.   
  
Nikita looked positively beautiful in the dim light, particularly tied with his eyes squeezed shut. His fists were clenched and he never even bothered to attempt testing the bonds. That much trust had to be amazing to give was the only thought crossing his mind as he gazed on his new lover. The feeling of knowing that he was the one being trusted in that way made him hot and he wanted Nikita right then and there, to take and possess him. "Too fucking beautiful for words," he whispered inaudibly to himself. He rid himself of his reamining clothing, watching his slave carefully, just out of curiosity to see if Nikita would try anything, but the silver-haired boy stayed still, his eyes closed, trying to slow his breathing as he waited.   
  
Crawling up the bed and positioning himself over his new lover, kissing the boy, softly at first, then a little harder. He ran his hands through Nikita's hair, pushing it away from his sweat-soaked face. "You are so beautiful, Nikita," he breathed against the other's lips. Covering the dark face with small kisses, he repeated the phrase over and over, closing his eyes when he heard the first soft, tenetive whimpers. "Beautiful and sweetÖ"   
  
The trailing kisses spread to Nikita's jawline and neck, tracing cords of sinew and muscle with the very tip of his tongue, softly nipping at the hot bronze skin. Nikita began to whimper outright, straining to meet his lover's kisses. He just knew that Tristan was the perfect Master for him, the one he'd been wishing for ever since he'd heard about kind Masters that cared for their slaves. The others hadn't been nearly so kind to him; it was mostly for them to take their pleasure from him and only acknowledge his presence in those times. There were a few that had been kind enough to take him outside, if only to walk him around like some pedigree meant to be admired, but not touched. But TristanÖTristan was so different. He talked to Nikita, held him, kissed and touched him in the ways he'd read of, but had never experienced.   
  
He gasped when the warm, heavy fluid fell in rivulets across his chest and stomach, followed by Tristan's mouth, his tongue lapping at the liquid in small, playful licks. He felt that same tongue trace skillful patterns down the ridges of muscle under his skin, across his stomach and down to where his thigh met his groin as fingers playfully plucked at the rings in his nipples. Tristan's warm mouth encompassed Nikita's scrotum, sucking gently as he pulled each ball carefully between his lips. He trailed the tip of his tongue up the underside of Nikita's shaft, teasing at the head with kisses, then planting sucking kisses back down the sides of the slave's shaft. He wanted to scream, not accustomed to the pleasure he was receiving.   
  
Tristan smiled a little when he heard the high-pitched whimpers sharply forcing their way out of Nikita's parted lips. He bet himself that no one had ever stopped and considered to please him in any way physically before. He desperately wanted to pull out all the stops, right then and there, to show Nikita what sex could really be like, but he knew that he'd need some other tricks to keep up his sleeve for later endeavors. Instead, he decided to demonstrate just a tip of the sexual iceberg. Taking the boy's member into his mouth, he swallowed the entire length, sucking softly, then increasingly harder before toning the suction back down when Niktia's soft noises became too desperate.   
  
Everything was warm and wet and so wonderful, Nikita couldn't control the small thrusts his hips were making, trying to get deeper. He was no innocent to oral sex; he had given the treatment several times in his young life. But to be on the receiving endÖhe suddenly understood why it was so popular among many of his past Masters. He was certain he was in heaven at that moment, so much that he didn't comprehend the cautious penetration from one of Tristan's well-lubed finger. But when the penetration became apparent, he screamed as the probing digit brushed against that one place within him that sent shockwaves through his body. He writhed and whimpered, trying desperately to keep himself under control. He had been taught, as a force of habit more than anything, to not allow himself to orgasm unless he was permitted to.   
  
Slowly stretching the slave and preparing him for entry, Tristan marvelled at his self-control. Were he in Nikita's place, he was certain he would have already gone over the edge. As it was, he thoroughly noted the silver-haired boy's whimpers and squirming body, tense with longing and the need for release. He sucked harder, waiting for the right moment when Nikita would let him know it was time. He didn't have long to wait; soon, the slave was alternately thrusting into his mouth and rocking back onto his hand, trying to get the most effective penetration.   
  
Nikita moaned, arching his back when both the wonderful mouth and fingers abruptly vanished. He sobbed weakly, wondering what he had done to be punished in such a way. He'd done everything Tristan had told him to; he hadn't opened his eyes, he hadn't tested against his bondsÖ I've been good, haven't I? Haven't I, Tristan? his mind pleaded as the cuffs about his ankles were released and his knees were pushed up. "Oh GodÖ" he gasped as he felt Tristan's mouth over his own and the tip of his Master's cock press agains his opening. "PleaseÖ" he whispered between kisses.   
  
Taking the cuffs off Nikita's wrists, Tristan used his movements forward to push into the waiting body beneath him. He kissed the boy deeply, letting his hands roam freely over his body, around his back and pulling the slave onto his lap. The penetration was exquisite, Nikita's body clenching sweetly against his burried length, rocking ever-so-gently, trying to pull him in deeper. He reached down and slowly ran the pad of his thumb over the swollen head of Nikita's sex, then grasped lightly, keeping a firm hold on Nikita from behind. The other's arms wrapped themselves around his neck, Nikita practically sobbing into his neck. "Come on, love," he encouraged softly, nuzzling the slave's cheek until his head turned so Tristan could kiss him. "Just let it goÖlet me make you happy tonight, Nikita. Let it happen."   
  
When the final words of permission were whispered against his lips, Nikita felt the world fuzz over and the pent-up longing that he'd been so carefully holding released. He heard a cry and vaguely recognized it as his own voice as he felt himself explode, Tristan's gentle hands kneading the seed out of him with quick, expert strokes. Stars bloomed behind his eyelids and then things went dark.   
  
Tristan felt Nikita go suddenly limp in his arms and glanced down in time to see the slave pass out. He certainly wasn't finished, but he was so close to the edge it was painful. But, he would rather die than take too much advantage of the situation; there was no respect in taking an unconscious body, that was for certain. And respect was something he wanted Nikita to have, above everything else. So, he bit his lip as hard as he could, trying to stave off his own oncoming orgasm until he received permission from a fully conscious partner. He cradled the beautiful body close, running his fingers throught he long silver hair, placing small kisses on the sweat-heated skin until he felt eyelashes fluttering against his own face.   
  
"TristanÖ?" Nikita asked, more than confused. He knew that he had spent himself, but he could also feel his Master's length inside him.   
  
"I didn't want to do anything without you being awake," he admitted with a devilish grin. "Although it looks like you enjoyed yourself."   
  
"ButÖIÖwhy?" he questioned. "I'm here for you toÖ"   
  
"And I'm here to not take advantage of that," Tristan scolded gently, laying the boy down on the comforter. "I might hurt you doing something stupid like that and you're right; I'd never hurt you like that."   
  
"Then please finish," Nikita pleaded. "I want to see you, if you'll let meÖI know I opened my eyes, butÖ"   
  
"Don't worry about that," Tristan assured him. "If you hadn't, I'd be very worried." With that said, he began thrusting inside the body beneath him, enjoying the moans that had started again immediately, kissing the open mouth that was so plainly offered to him. When he finally came, he was still kissing Nikita, the smaller boy's hands clenching onto his hips, driving him deeper, his own hands tangled in the hair he found so enchanting.   
  
"MmmÖ" Nikita purred playfully as his Master sat up. He just wanted to curl up and go to sleep, but it looked as though Tristan had other ideas. "WhereÖ?" he started as the taller man picked him up.   
  
"Quick shower," Tristan explained. "We're both a terrible mess and I could certainly appreciate someone to scrub my back." He grinned a little down at the bundle in his arms, who nodded sleepily and agreed on the condition that the favor be returned.   
  
"Anything for you, 'Kita," he promised. "And then we'll go right to bed."   
  
To Be Continued....

 


End file.
